Deathly Spoils
by WolfieElf
Summary: Sephique thought he had a good life. That is until it was taken from him from the icy tundra of Northrend and transformed into a Death Knight. Whats worse, is Arthas Menethil has other ideas about his Blood elf spoils of war. RP WIP story with Buffmanican. MxM, lemons in further chapters. Read at your own discloser!


Love and intimacy are such strange things, and Sephique Zvoldr really felt no difference between the two. He enjoyed the warmth of skin, the sweat and aroma that any woman or man would give off. Though particularly interested in men, his mind wandered off from fantasy to fantasy in a sweet ecstasy that sometimes never came true.

A whore? No. He didn't consider himself a whore. Just a man who likes giving it out there really.

Who was he in life?

Well, Silvermoon's own Murder Row can adhere to that calling. A rogue he was in life, seeming to have no care unless his life was on the line. Which it has been, plenty of times. He was never worried about it; he was quick, agile, and smart with his twin blades, his long blonde hair moving with his slender body as if he were dancing on the stages of an Elite Tauren Chieften concert.

But, all that comes to a quiet and quick end when the Lich King's forces invade the footholds of Azeroth, swarming Northrend being the cockroaches they are.

Sephique stands at a tent with another Blood elf that is tending to a small wound on his shoulder, the man placing cold, stinging gels on it. Seph hisses out, "Fuck! God damnit, cant you get it to mend any quicker?"

The man shrugs, "I'm sorry, this is all the herbs I was able to gather before the Scourge started pouring through," he said with a rather eloquent tone, "I'll try my best to finish up. All the paladins and healers are out on the field right now."

Seph sighs lightly to himself, setting his cheek on his palm. He never really cared about the Scourge or the Lich King, but something about this unsettled thing with Arthas pushes him forward. Revenge? You could say so.

He pulls his shoulder away from the elf, a frustrated look in his eyes, "I'll be fine, it's just a small cut really."

The elf gives him a twisted face, "You can't be serious. You're not really going back out there, are you?"

Seph shrugs as he reaches forward to grab a scroll, tied up with a neat little knot, turning as he pushes aside the flaps of the tent, "I can out run some measly Scourge, they've been frozen for who knows how long anyways, they really cant be that fast." And with that, he slips away before hearing the retorts of the older elf.

Seph has never really needed to rely on a mount. He counts more on his own two feet to carry him here and there. He's swift enough that he can out run most anything that cant fly.

He steps through the snow, whistling to himself as he peers to the letter. It's a missive to Tirion Fordring, that one… Paladin guy. He doesn't really know who he is, but he knows getting the letter to him is quite important. Why he was entrusted with this task confuses him somewhat.

His long ears perk as he peers around, thinking he may of heard something, but nothing was around. Scanning the area with squinted eyes, he decides moving quicker would be in his best interest. He steps faster in the snow, keeping his keen ears perked to see if he can hear anything again.

Another noise.

Seph turns just in time to see a ghoul leap forward, a gnarled face roaring out in a "Brlarg!" sound. The ghoul's distorted claws swipe forward at Seph, who quickly jumps back and draws his blades, prepared to take on just one measly ghoul.

The ghoul snarls out, scratching forward at him in a desperate attempt to catch him with infected claws, though the dumb creature is hardly enough for a swift Blood elf rogue with plenty of training. Smirking, he finds himself in a very desirable situation.

His ears ring as something is driven forward through his chest. A sharp pain. He can only grunt, his eyes wide as he slowly looks down to see a massive, rune blade running straight through his chest.

Seph coughs lightly, his world spinning as the ghoul ceases its attack, and he falls back into plated arms.

"What beautiful spoils of war." A deep, cold chuckle runs through Sephique's ears before everything ceases to be.

A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this RP/creative writing thing I'm doing for my WoW DK Blood elf. Be warned there will be lemons in later chapters, but for right now we will see where the story goes. For the horde!


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